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bitin-and-barkin · 4 months

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Haunting Me

A Donnie Angst fic

Tw, possibly distressing content

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Donnie couldn’t remember anything the first night it began.

He couldn’t remember anything about it, and if you asked him he wouldn’t be able to tell you about it.

He wouldn’t be able to tell you about the mission that came before the argument, or how he was the one to screw it up once again.

About how his self righteous, self serving ass and his stupid tech fucked up.

How the ride home was quieter than it ever had been in ages.

And he wouldn’t be able to tell you about what his brothers said to him when he got home.

He couldn’t remember how Leo looked at him with pity.

He couldn’t tell you about how Mikey wouldn't even talk to him.

And he wouldn’t be able to tell you how Raph lashed out.

How he yelled and screamed. How he called him emotionless. How he spoke so fast to the point where Donnie couldn't even focus on what he was saying. He couldn’t tell you how that fight pushed him over the edge. He couldn’t tell you how his blood ran cold when he heard that they were going on another mission, when for one day he just wanted to stay home. He couldn’t tell you how for once, he let someone else drive his beloved turtle tank. He couldn’t tell you how once he got there, the yelling and the action and the sounds of scraping and screeching and demands being given sounded like nail on a turn table. He couldn’t tell you how it all felt like so much, too much, that he could barely even focus on anything. He couldn’t tell you how he fell off, or went over the deep end.

He couldn't tell you that he rushed forward during the fight, unable to find himself caring about anything.

Just wanting to end it. End something, either the fight or himself.

About an attack coming straight for him, the creatures leg piercing his back.

Piercing his shell, flesh, and his lungs.

He couldn't tell you how he kept moving anyways.

And he couldn't tell you about how he bashed that screaming bitches skull.

Everything. It felt gross, it all felt wrong. He wasn't sure if it was overstimulation, heightened by blood in his lungs from the attack. He wasn’t sure if it was the feeling of the blood of his enemy staining his hands and Bo. He wasn't sure if it was the uncomfortable leather texture of the chair they sat him down in when he got home. He wasn't sure if it was him lying again and again, pretending the injuries were only surface wounds when in reality he could feel it moving inside him with every breath he took. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t remember.

And he couldn’t remember how Raph said he was benched.

But he could tell you how his shell felt bear, without the pressure of his battle shell that morning. He could tell you the way his skin felt on his pants, and the way his muscle felt on his bone. He could tell you how that morning when he woke up all he could hear was the sound of the air conditioning, and the clock, and the fan, and the refrigerator all buzzing loud, louder than ever before. He could tell you how that day even his safe foods felt wrong, and how even toothpaste felt like shards of glass against his tongue. He could tell you how every texture against his skin made him want to rip it off like peeling wax.

He could tell you how it reached out that morning.

It reached out.

That first initial connection had haunted him, haunted him like nothing else.

The feeling of it entangling with him, it seeping into his pores, his wounds, his body.

HIS body.

After that it never felt like his anymore.

It was always there, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. Its tentacles, the boundaries of life and death, it and him, their identites blurred and merged together. He couldn’t get rid of it, but he NEEDED it to be gone.

It was simply a problem, an issue, but the sound of its heartbeat thumped in his head like his own, and it’s movement became his as it latched on like a leech, like a parasite, and refused to let go.

It was terrifying. The few minutes he was connected he felt it like he felt himself. It consumed him. Its emotions if you could even say it had any, were now theirs. It’s memories, he experienced thousands of them just in a second. Thousands of universes reduced to ash, millions of souls crushed under the weight of the monstrous machine. The engulfment and the struggling of the billions, it consumed as they, like him, tried to take control.

Tried to control something. The ship, themselves as they felt their humanity being ripped away from them as the biomass wrapped around their flesh and brain, as it infested their skin and bones.

He did that. It did that, all of that. And now that was a part of him.

The grief of thousands, engraved into his mind.

The burden of knowledge per say, haunted him. And this knowledge seeped into his mind, and his soul, and to every aspect of his self.

Now? He was different. Irreparable and unchangebly different.

Disgusting. And broken, and plagued, and diseased and tainted and infected and invaded and-

Impure.

He would never be the same.

He would never be dirt free.

And these thoughts plagued him as he laid in his room, in his bed, alone.

Unable to, not allowed to get up, to get his mind off of it.

He was stuck. Trapped and paralyzed.

He rocked back and forth in his bed and scratched his neck, almost as if to try and claw the skin off.

God, what was he doing?

Was he insane or something?

He stared at his computer screen on his desk, looking at the code he had yet to finish.

Why did it haunt him?

It was nothing, he had experienced the least out of all of them.

And yet, they all seemed to be recovering.

So why?

Something was wrong with him.

Fundamentally and irreparable wrong, even before the Krang

And even before he learned how to fight and create, even though he had been creating for as long as he could remember.

Just don’t think about it.

It’s simple. Just don’t think about it.

Ignore it.

He’s not thinking about it.

I’m not thinking about it.

It infected him, latched on deep, down to his bones

He felt it.

Felt it all.

He had felt it as Raph disinfected his wounds, as he talked about how according to the scans, it almost hit Donnies lung.

He had felt it with Mikey as he helped him to his room, as with each breath he took it got harder to breathe.

Felt his twin be crushed between unfamiliar limbs, limbs that weren’t his but felt as if his own.

Felt the rot wrapping around Raph, spoke the words of the lies whispered in his head. The lies that were used to control him.

Felt the vines that tangled and entangled his youngest brother, restraining, snaring, and destroying.

He wasn’t supposed to be moving around, as his injuries supposedly bedbound him, but laying any longer in these sheets and allowing him to rot away in his room (and let the rot infest in his wounds) would kill him.

Or at least make him kill himself.

He swore he could feel it, feel them deeper than he had before.

As now, he was sure it wasn’t in his head.

Now? It was in his wounds.

He could feel it wrap around his lungs, restricting his breath and constricting him alive.

A parasite, digging into his wounds like an infection. He swore he could feel it, like maggots infesting his wounds.

And he could taste it, in the back of his throat. Like bile or blood, the metallic taste of his scorching his throat with each breath he took.

And he could smell it, the disgusting scent of blood and flesh. The smell of it, the oddly clean aroma, almost like bleach and alcohol mixed with the blood and flesh of thousands.

And he could hear it.

Whispering in his ears, thousands of thoughts flying through like a symphony.

The harmony of the machine, each metaphorical gear turning and churning.

And he hated it.

Hated that during those few moments of connection, he felt more alive than he had ever been.

And after, when he was changed and now a ghost of his former self, he had been more alive then anybody had ever been.

And he hated that when entangled with it, he felt a connection.

A connection that he had never felt with anybody else, not Splinter, not April, and not his brothers.

Donie scratched at the back of his neck.

He didn’t need, he didn’t even want it.

It was a nuisance, a problem, something to be solved and fixed and begone of.

None of it was valued. No honorable deeds would ever be done by it. It, what was left of it was repulsive and disgusting.

But he couldn’t get rid of it, he couldn’t!

No matter how much it’s thoughts plagued his mind and no matter how it destroyed him, it CAPTIVATED him.

It needed him, he couldn’t just abandon it. It was a part of him.

He didn’t need it or want it or love it, it repulsed him, but it was the only thing keeping him alive.

He could feel it;s heartbeat as he swore his stopped.

If it didn’t enchant him, he would dig it out of his wounds where he stood.

The softshell stood up and began pacing around his room, muttering to himself, almost as if to talk to it.

He couldn’t do this right now, he couldn’t do this ever-

Ever. never ever.

He needed to get his mind off things.

To run, to flee, to escape. From it, from his own body and mind.

He needed to.

He needed to-

Donnie looked to his digital clock.

2am.

Nobody was up right now.

He was alone.

He looked to the sewer grate, resided just outside his room.

He needed to get some fresh air.

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Okay, that wasn't so bad. Sure as hell wasn't good, but not bad.

This is not a one part fic, there will be more to come. Side note though, next parts will likely involve drug addiction and grooming (likely non sexual)

I haven't posted in a while because I've been losing my will to live. Anyways, more Donnie centric content to come. We love making him suffer.

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theunholyrogue · 1 year

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a bad day (bayv! Donnie x GN reader) part 1

don angst just doesn’t exist unless it’s completely revolving around april… so here’s one that isn’t just about april! i know don isn’t a big part in this but he will be in part 2

tw: angst, 18+ nsfw, cursing, fighting (physically and verbally), alcohol and cigarette mentions, brief forced intimacy + sa mentions, abuse (ties in with the fighting)

read part two here

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” you muttered, staring down at your plastered guardian, lying comfortably in their recliner with old reruns playing softly on the television beside you.

“Guess you are TOO hammered to come to my match tonight,” you continued to mumble quietly to yourself, dropping your duffle bag to the ground and grabbing the remote from the coffee table, clicking the TV off. “No, it’s FINE. It’s not like I want you a part of my life or nothin’.”

Your eyes glared daggers at them, resentment having been building up for years. You wished that they would act like the guardian they claim to be, to have some parental role in your life, but you weren’t destined to have that, were you?

After cleaning up some of the stray beer cans and cigarette butts, you grabbed your duffle bag and walked back to the front door to your run-down apartment. You thought about announcing your whereabouts, but that would only be a waste of breath.

It wasn’t a hard decision on where you would end up, having already decided on hearing down to the lair to see your boyfriend and his brothers. You had a lot on your mind and figured that Donatello might be able to distract you with some science experiment or new tech thing he may be working on.

It was still afternoon, so you figured that the guys wouldn’t be on patrol just yet, and had your suspicions confirmed whenever you entered the lair after a 15 minute walk and saw Leonardo and Raphael sparring.

The two brothers hadn’t noticed you, or if they did they were too in tune with their match to speak, so you left them alone to finish their spar and would say your ‘hello’s’ later in the evening. You couldn’t pinpoint Michaelangelo, and honestly couldn’t think about the possibility of his whereabouts at any given time other than with pizza or comic books. That left one terrapin, who was sitting in front of the Shell-Raiser, presumably doing repairs to the outer shell.

“Hey,” you stated, setting your bag down and walking up next to the turtle.

“Hey, love,” Donatello replied, giving you a brief look before returning to the garbage truck. “What are you up to?” He asked, marking points on the shell for future screws.

“Um, just coming over here before my match tonight,” You replied, taking a seat next to the turtle and grabbing the tools that laid in your now seating spot. “Are you going to be there?”

“I’m not sure,” Donatello replied, taking a step back to turn his attention to you. “It’s just that I have this to finish up and-,”

You cut the terrapin off, “No, no, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I mean, yeah, I’ll have-,” you stated before being cut off by the sound of Donnie’s T-Phone going off. You furrowed your eyebrows as he answered, watching him talk to -who you could come to the conclusion of being- April.

“Oh, yeah, I’m on my way,” He said as he hung up, standing from his spot. You followed suit, your extremities starting to feel the sense of a familiar, anxiety-related jitteriness that you often experienced.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Vern’s camera is doing some weird, glitchy thing from what April said, she needs me to fix it so that she can do her report,” Donatello responded, gathering his supplies.

You felt your heart drop.

“Yeah, they also work for Channel 6 News, who can get them a new camera,” you retorted, but he didn’t stop in his tracks. “Did they even try calling their boss?”

“No, I guess not, but I need to go.”

You reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, finally getting the turtle to stop and look at you.

“What’s wrong?” Donatello asked, a sigh escaping his lips afterwards.

You widened your eyes, “You can’t be serious,” you stated, but the terrapin looked impatient. “You just told me that you couldn’t come to my match tonight because you had things to do but the moment April calls, you suddenly have the time to run to her aid?”

“This is for her job,” Donatello stated, your name flowing off his tongue afterwards like unsatisfying candy.

“A job that can provide her and her cameraman with another camera. Is that seriously more important than watching your own partner’s last match of the season?”

“You just said there would more-,”

“Yeah- practice matches! That’s not even the issue here,” You asked, your grip tightening on his wrist.

Donatello pulled his arm away from your grip, “April is already walking on a thin rope, she can’t lose her job again. I’m sorry, I really need to help a friend out,” He spoke softly before leaving the lair.

You stood there in his lab for what felt like hours, stunned at how the turtle just left you. A tear slipped down your face before you quickly wiped it away, walking back over to your bag, grabbing it, and swiftly exiting the lair without saying goodbye.

——

April had brought the camera to the rooftop to protect the terrapin’s identity. Blissfully unaware of the precious events that had occurred between you and the turtle, she asked about the two of you and how you were doing.

“Well,” Don started to explain as he pulled the camera apart, pulling away to click his headlamp as the sun began to set behind the two. “They are probably mad at me now.”

“Why?” April asked, leaning against the side of the ledge with her arms crossed, awaiting his explanation. The turtle told the female what had gone down between the two of you, and April furrowed her eyebrows.

“Donatello! No sir! You can’t treat your partner like that! They should always come first to you and vice versa. Vern could have easily called and got another camera.”

Donatello gulped, remembering the exact same words that you had already said about the situation. He really treated you like shit.

“You need to apologize and make it up to them immediately, that is unacceptable,” April scolded, walking over and taking the camera pieces back from the turtle. “Don’t lose the good thing you have because you think other things are more important. Nothing should be more important than them. Now go, buh bye!” She stated before waving him off.

——

You were early arriving at the boxing gym. You thought for a moment that you were the only person there until a familiar face turned the corner from the locker rooms. You started to head for the other set of locker rooms before the person caught your full attention.

“You good?” Eric asked, stopping to look at you. You paused, gazing at him and nodding in response, barely catching what he had asked.

“Yea-Yeah, I’m good. Ready for tonight?” You asked, him nodding in response.

“Yeah. Too bad we don’t get to fight each other anymore this season. You’re one of the best,” Eric winked.

You smiled. “Thanks, I practice hard for it.”

You felt the air become tense and awkward between the two of you. When had he gotten so close? You were about to step away from the male and excuse yourself to the locker room before he glared at you, aggressively pressing you against the concrete wall and pressing his lips to yours.

You felt your fight or fight kick in, immediately pushing the male away from you. “Back off! There’s not a chance in hell that you would have a shot!” You exclaimed, shocked.

Eric furrowed his eyebrows before lunging at you, “Then I guess I’ll just make you,” he muttered.

You thrusted against him, maneuvering yourself so that you could knee yourself to freedom. Eric feel the floor, wincing and groaning in pain as you quickly moved away and into the locker room, locking the door behind you until it was closer to match time.

You were shaking as you felt the adrenaline coursing through your veins, sliding down the back of the door and tucking your head between your legs in order to calm yourself down. You couldn’t believe what just happened, or what had almost happened, what would have happened had you not been strong enough to get away on your own.

And unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend had witnessed the entire event through a glass window engraved into the roof of the building, and he was sick.

——

You stood there, looking out at the crowd as sweat beads trickled down your forehead before dripping off of your eyelashes. Your arm being held up by the referee as your name is announced to the audience as the winner for the 10th time this season. You had won every single match and had had a happy coach to show for it.

But something about the current situation made your stomach turn, you hadn’t felt this way at any of your previous matches. Andy before you could put your finger on what it was, you felt your hands being dropped and the silhouette of a male sliding in underneath the ropes of the ring. You didn’t have enough time to react before his fist collided with your nose, sending you backwards and onto the mat.

You could hear the uproar around you from the crowd, some believing that this was a skit like WWE, some concerned for your wellbeing, and other comments, but you had to focus on the male that was walking towards you and Ray to finish you off.

You were too focused on protecting yourself to catch his identity at the moment, as he went to take another swing, you raised your left arm to cover your face and used your right arm to attack. You overcorrected, sending the back of the bent wrist into the cheekbone of whoever stood above you. With your force, you caused them to stumble backwards, giving you time to stand up and defend yourself, correcting yourself with your next move, an uppercut, that sent your attacker to the floor. You backed away like you finally heard your coach yelling at you to do, and noticed that Eric was the one who attacked you.

You thought about continuing the fight, but stepped out of the rink before you could act on your instincts. You immediately started to walk to the locker room, glancing into the mirror to notice your nose was bleeding.

“Mother fucker,” you muttered, changing into your old clothes and having a handful of tissues, wiping your nose and sneaking out of the back door to the building to head home. You needed to get home before something else happened to you.

——

Once you got home, you tried to head for you room immediately, until you heard your name being called from the living room. You held the napkin to your nose and peeked into the room to your guardian half awake and drunkenly looking for you.

“What?”

“Go grab me a beer.”

“Get it yourself,” You mumbled.

“What?” They asked, raising their voice.

You dropped your bag before looking at them. “Go get it yourself, you lazy piece of shit!”

“The fuck you just say,” they exclaimed, standing up and walking over to you and standing over you.

“I didn’t stutter,” You mouthed.

You felt a sudden sting on your cheek. “You got real nerve actin’ Like that! I work hard to keep us here!”

“Oh yeah, you’re late on rent, maybe chill on the alcohol addiction and try keeping a suitable living place for your kid,” you stated.

“You mind your own got damn business, you little shit!”

“Then act like I’m your business! You have a problem,” You stated before turning and going to your room.

At least, before you heard the sound of a grunt and glass breaking, and a hard knock to the back of your head before everything went black.

#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt donnie 2016 #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt leo 2014 #tmnt leo 2016 #tmnt mikey 2014 #tmnt mikey 2016 #tmnt raph 2014 #tmnt x reader #tmnt raph 2016 #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie 2014 #tmnt donatello x reader #donnie angst #tmnt angst #my heart #ouches #bayverse turtles

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